


not just a sister

by Ren (FahRENheit2006)



Series: not just friends (but what i want most) [6]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Dialogue, Dialogue, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gap Filler, Gift Giving, Gun Violence, Injury, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FahRENheit2006/pseuds/Ren
Summary: Wherein Waverly (with help from Wynonna) chases down a missing Willa. On top of being super frickin’ exhausted and processing a lot of complicated frickin’ emotions, Waverly gets shot when the Homestead is attacked. And has to tell an already-worried Nicole about it.Takes place in 1x11. Utilizes Road to Purgatory content for flavor.





	not just a sister

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for abuse mentions of Waverly’s history with Willa/Ward. Also describes in detail Waverly dealing with getting shot.

“Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—“

Waverly had been muttering the same phrase under her breath for the past three hours. First while freezing cold **running** around the Homestead, then freezing cold **driving** around the Homestead.

It was an ungodly hour of the night and Waverly’s nerves were shot. She was perpetually hovering on the verge of tears/panic, but couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the Homestead even to check her phone. She didn’t want to have to face telling anyone the truth.

She had lost Willa.

* * *

Their big sister, back from the dead. A brainwashed cult victim struggling to remember who she was… and Waverly had driven her away.

It had been an accident. An awkward conversation gone awry.

Her intentions had been good. Waverly gritted her teeth and tried to do what Nicole had suggested.

_“Try talking to Willa. Get to know her, maybe? Or at least let her know you?”_

So Waverly had brought out her memory box… well, one of them. She had one for Momma, one for Daddy and one for Willa (Momma’s was the smallest). Pictures, newspaper clippings, ribbons and some toys of Willa’s. It had also once held Willa’s necklace: a green crescent moon on a gold chain. …But that was in the hands of Bobo Del Rey now.

They had sat together on Willa’s bed and gone through some of them, mostly the pictures. Willa had been oddly fascinated with the copy of her death certificate and asked about her own funeral. Waverly offered up the program as well, a small folded paper with a faded picture of a 13-year-old girl on the front.

Those funerals were one of Waverly’s few vivid, early memories. She had hoped the story would make Willa happy _(? In a way?)_ , though it hadn’t turned out that way.

“I saw the little white coffin but I knew you weren’t actually in there,” Waverly had said, the memory almost foreign in her mind. It had been surreal for a six-year-old, like someone was playing a game she didn’t understand. “They’d filled it with sandbags.”

“Was it a nice service?” Willa seemed genuinely curious, her face soft.

“All I remember was…” Waverly paused to reflect. Aunt Gus came to mind, as did Uncle Curtis, their faces contorted in despair as they held each other. “…a lot of crying.”

Something else came to mind, which made a sad smile pull Waverly’s cheek. “And the food. The grown-ups let me eat as maaany marshmallows as I wanted.” _Ugh_. “…I threw up all night long.”

A sad sigh was heavy in Waverly’s chest. She’d tried to dull the pain that day with marshmallows and it had gone terribly.

Willa’s voice pulled Waverly out of her thoughts, soft and scathing and cold. “Gee. That must have been **so** hard for you.”

The rebuke awoke a fluttering in Waverly’s chest, dormant for so many years. An anxiety that had been sitting just under the surface since last night. She felt an immediate need to please, to undo it, to make Willa just **understand** that was not what she’d meant. Waverly’s shoulders tensed and a breath caught in her throat.

“…I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s really intense. You guys killed me,” Willa intoned almost emotionlessly, like she didn’t really mean it. She tilted her head at Waverly. “What did you bury in Daddy’s coffin?”

Waverly had inhaled deeply before answering. “…Daddy.” A pair of tears sitting just on top of her eyes threatened to spill over.

There was a pause as Willa closed her eyes, her expression briefly tortured. She started to sway forward on the bed, a breath catching in her throat.

As Waverly asked if Willa remembered something, Willa had reached out to steady herself on Waverly’s shoulder. Except that fluttering anxiety made Waverly pull away, those tears trickling down her cheek. She flinched at Willa’s touch… and Willa had **definitely** noticed.

“Are you scared of me?” The woman’s face contorted amid a mixture of emotions. First confusion, then a cold sneer, then begrudging acceptance. With that, Willa pushed off the bed and took off down the hall.

Still sitting, Waverly was too stunned to move. She mentally kicked herself for her lack of reaction… mostly because the answer was _“Yes.”_

_“Yes, Willa. I’m scared of you. I’ve always been scared of you.”_

How could she say that? That was worse than saying nothing.

The slam of the front door roused Waverly from her brief brooding.

_She couldn’t have—did Willa just—?_

“Oh balls!”

She couldn’t take it back, so all she could do was make it right. Waverly finally gave chase, but the front porch light was too dim. She couldn’t tell what direction the woman had gone. A pair of snowy tracks led straight out from the Homestead, but beyond that?

_Oh balls._

* * *

For the next couple of hours, Waverly had hit every single hiding spot on the Homestead and surrounding land five times, calling Willa’s name the whole time. The barn, the pond, the pet cemetery, the wood shed, the grove, the border fence, the fallow field on the other side… not a sign of Willa.

Not that Waverly was much of a tracker in the first place.

_God, I wish Doc were still here._

_He’s probably halfway to Alaska by now. …the big dummy._

It was close to four in the morning by the time Waverly finally went home. The nap at Nicole’s earlier was the only reason Waverly wasn’t dead on her feet. She was both angry and relieved to find Wynonna still wasn’t back yet, though it didn’t change the ugly, gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She was dismayed to find her phone was dead, but Waverly was too tired and upset to deal with it. After throwing it on the charger, she collapsed face-first onto her bed and fell asleep immediately.

Waverly awoke a few hours later to Wynonna pulling on her ankle and hissing in her ear. “Hey! Hey Waverly! What the shit? Where’s Willa?”

_Oh **shitballs**._

Groaning into her pillow, Waverly told Wynonna the whole story. Her sister took it surprisingly well. All Wynonna did was tilt her head back, swear at the ceiling, sigh loudly, then yank Waverly’s ankle again.

“I’ll make coffee. You get your ass in the shower. Then we go find her. …Also, you’re buying donuts.”

* * *

Oh God, Waverly was so tired. She toweled off her hair with her eyes closed, her eyelids impossibly heavy and grainy after such a long, stressful night.

The past week— _two weeks—month?—_ had felt like an eternity. There was just this exhausted twinge in her shoulders and back, and every yawn reverberated through Waverly’s jaw and into her chest. A dry, stinging pain had taken up residence in her eyes and a dull headache sat at her temples.

The only saving grace to the nonstop Revenant shit-show _(and now Willa shit-show)_ had been her brief reprieves spent with Nicole.

_…Oh **shit**! **Nicole!**_

Reaching for the phone on the nightstand (glowing with 100% battery life again), Waverly counted six missed calls and four missed texts.

[Waverly says: “She tried to touch me and I accidentally flinched. She freaked out and ran”]

[Nicole says: “I’m so sorry, Waverly”] (Read: 11:17 PM)

[Nicole says: “Are you doing okay? Did you make up with Willa?”] (12:09 AM)

[Nicole says: “I’m still at the Poker Spectacular, but I could come by after?”] (1:42 AM)

[Nicole says: “Did you find her? Call me when you get a chance”] (2:26 AM)

[Nicole says: “Hey Wave, just seeing how you’re doing? I’ll catch you in the morning?”] (3:14 AM)

A couple of voicemails echoed these thoughts, mostly Nicole’s uncertainty if Waverly wanted her to come by to help or not. And that she was keeping her phone close by in case Waverly needed her.

 _She’s just the best,_ Waverly sighed before tapping out a response. She desperately wanted to call, but **not** with Wynonna listening in.

[Waverly says: “Oh God, I lost Willa”]

[Waverly says: “And I’m so sorry!!!  my phone died and i was out all night looking and”]

[Waverly says: “Wynonna’s back and we’re gonna go look now”]

[Waverly says: “I’m so so sorry if i worried you!”]

[Waverly says: “I hope you had a good night at the poker thing!”]

[Waverly says: “I can’t talk right now but I’ll call you later! Promise!! And you can tell me about the Poker Sspectacular”]

She sent a kiss emoji for good measure in the hopes it would seem reassuring.

A “…” appeared almost immediately. Her phone vibrated with Nicole’s responses.

[Nicole says: “Okay. I’m off today so let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”]

[Nicole says: “I’m here for you, Waves. Whatever you need”]

A pair of hearts followed that final text, which Waverly repeated back.

_Just the best._

* * *

Wynonna and Waverly parked at one end of the short Purgatory downtown and made a plan to divide and conquer. Wynonna took one side of the street, Waverly the other. They’d meet at the next block. Keep phones close. Go Team Earp.

A quick circuit of the grocery store was Waverly’s first target, though it was made unnecessarily long because of all the Purgatorians wanting to stop and chat. Mostly to ask how she was doing and how much they missed her face behind the counter at Shorty’s.

“Oh, uh, yea. New management and all. And I was thinking about—um—applying to grad school,” Waverly had deflected as her eyes skimmed the aisles.

A chorus of “Good for you, Waverly”s mixed with “Oh, you’re not leaving, are you”s were muttered along with well-wishes.

One older woman even expressed her condolences that Gus was leaving in the form of an odd platitude: “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but sometimes He is telling us to find a new place to handle it.” Waverly wasn’t sure if she was supposed to agree or be grateful for that sentiment, and instead opted to give Mrs. Brimley what she hoped was a thoughtful smile.

It all might have been touching if Waverly didn’t have a missing sister to find. She escaped the grocery store and exchanged a head shake with Wynonna who had just exited the liquor store across the street (a distinct brown bag tucked into a jacket pocket).

_God Damn it, Wynonna. At a time like this?_

_…what better time to start drinking, actually? Maybe **I** should pick something up. _

_I’d probably fall asleep._

The older Earp nodded her head at the diner while Waverly gestured towards the pawn shop next door.

_Oh God… the pawn shop._

The shop was just as cramped as it always was. Flickering fluorescent lighting, an odd leather and mildew smell, all crowded together in cramped aisles with poorly organized shelves.

If you knew where to look, there was still some evidence the pawn shop had been the site of a hostage stand-off only a few months ago. A hole in the wall a trio of Revenants had torn through was haphazardly patched with cinder blocks and a shelf stacked with trucker hats.

A dark stain on the floor still lingered near a center aisle… Shorty’s blood.

Sighing, Waverly quickly glanced down the remaining five short rows. Only a pair of patrons were in the pawn shop, neither of them a young (probably angry) woman. Those two older men were haggling over a pair of antique shotguns with the grizzled owner and paid her no mind.

Waverly didn’t want to linger here any longer than she had to. That anxious feeling in her chest was starting to fray around the edges from stress/exhaustion. She just felt so tired. Before she had just been tired of the Earp Curse, but now it was a different kind of tired. She was tired of saying and doing the wrong thing.  

Losing Willa had been bad enough, but finding Willa again? That inevitability almost felt **worse** (and made Waverly feel terrible about feeling that way, creating a cycle of guilt). And now, piled on top of all **that** , was a pang of longing for how much Waverly missed Shorty. How much she missed her old life before Shorty had died, before Gus was leaving, before Willa had come back.

_What about before Wynonna came back? …no. I wouldn’t trade her for anything._

_Before Nicole? … **definitely** not. Nicole is my best—well, she’s the best._

Waverly had a vague memory of being in this shop as a child with her father and sisters. She remembered Willa begging Daddy for a guitar she’d seen in the window. 12-year-old Willa wanted to learn to play while Daddy disagreed because she needed to focus. Wynonna had been fascinated by a wall of various military knives (just what every 10-year-old girl needed).

A 5-year-old Waverly had spent the entire visit with her face pressed against the jewelry case. She loved jewelry (still did, as evidenced by her large collection of earrings, necklaces and bangle bracelets). Little Waverly had wanted a pretty ring like Momma or a pretty necklace like Willa. She didn’t get one that day. Instead, Willa got a new switchblade.

_…Willa… Willa’s necklace…_

_Ugh. Stupid Bobo._

Waverly had the faintest of hopes that maybe— **maybe** —Bobo had hocked the small crescent moon at the pawn shop. She made her way over to the glass case opposite the gun racks. But a quick skim of the low shelves revealed no familiar gold chain or green medallion.

_Which means he’s keeping it as a trophy. **Gross**._

She almost slammed a fist against the glass counter but stopped herself (and pounded the top of her fist on her thigh instead). Yet another thing that wasn’t going right.

Turning on her heel, a different display caught Waverly’s eye. Not the necklaces, but the trays of rings. There, in a recessed box, were a pair of matching gold rings with tiny green jewels at their centers.

The elderly pawn dealer, finished with the two men, smiled at Waverly. He called over to her as he slid along the opposite side of the counter. “Find somethin’ you like, darlin’?”

She checked her watch. Surely Waverly could spare a minute. Willa had been gone all damn night, after all.

_And Wynonna had stopped for booze._

Gesturing to the two rings, Waverly asked to see. Something about them spoke to her. They were simple, lovely, sweet.

The man, Ernest, pulled on a pair of half-moon spectacles hanging from a black cord on his neck. Blinking, he pulled out the box and examined the rings. He recalled a Navajo artist who used to come to the Ghost River Triangle and sell her jewelry at the county fairs. A small hand-inscribed card indicated these were “Lucky Stones” that could “bring peace and balance.” To exchange rings of green jade was to “heal the wearer and purify your energy field with loving acceptance.”

Ernie winked at Waverly as he slipped his glasses off. “I don’t know about all that, but they **are** fourteen carat gold.” He quoted her a price.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Waverly had pulled out a credit card. Even Ernest seemed taken aback, but he accepted her card and hustled over to the register. “Got someone in mind for one of these?”

“I think I do,” Waverly smiled back.

Waverly tucked the small box into a pocket of her brown quilted coat and quickly headed back outside. 

Waiting at the intersection was a still-scowling Wynonna, hand slipping an opened bottle back into her puffy black jacket. Waverly met Wynonna in front of a florist and they walked down the street together, eyes peeled for Willa.

Wynonna kicked at the ground with her boots, frustration raw in her voice. “What were you thinking, showing Willa her own scrapbook of death??”

Waverly balked at the accusation. “Wha—She was curious! Wouldn’t **you** be curious?”

“Well, it freaked her out!” Wynonna snapped back, eyebrows arching.

All Waverly could do was sheepishly mumble. “…yea, more like pissed her off.” She scanned the few people out and about down the street. Still no Willa.

“I wish Doc were here.” When Waverly shot her a glare, Wynonna begrudgingly clarified, “He bailed on me… on **us**. …But he’s a hell of a tracker.”

“Yea, good point,” Waverly admitted. She felt that pang of frustration again. “How are we gonna find a girl we know nothing about?”

Waverly had spent most of the night trying to find the sister she **thought** she knew, but that was her first mistake: this wasn’t **their** Willa.

Glancing over at her sister, Waverly was confused when she saw Wynonna looking past her. A turn of Waverly’s head revealed a large yellow flier taped to the lamppost. It was an advertisement for half priced drinks at Shorty’s-slash-Bobo’s.

_Ugh._

Wynonna growled with disdain. “What is that musk-ox playing at?” Her eyes suddenly lit up with realization. “Hey! …you think?”

It took Waverly another second to figure out what Wynonna was getting at. “She **is** an Earp,” Waverly agreed with a nod.

Eyes widening in almost-panic, Wynonna smiled slightly. “Bet she drinks ‘em dry in 20 minutes.”

Waverly sighed loudly. “Come on.”

* * *

Willa was indeed hiding out at Shorty’s/Bobo’s trying out various beers and liquors. Waverly had been apprehensive about confronting her sister again, but this time Wynonna patted her arm and stepped up. Instead, Waverly had run back to get her Jeep to take them home.

She relished the excused to retreat, honestly. There was something about Willa that reminded Waverly of Daddy (and not just because of the cold, coiled way she drank, like she was half-asleep but could fly into a rage at any moment). 

That last thing Waverly had heard over her shoulder before exiting the bar was a glass slamming down.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wynonna had said in a hushed voice.

And again that cold, accusing voice of Willa’s. “And you shouldn’t have shot our daddy.”

A shudder crawled down Waverly’s spine as she jogged down the block to her car. It was the same feeling from last night, a sense of smallness in Willa’s cold presence. Wrapped in that smallness was that familiar, irrational desire to please, to make Willa understand what was going on.

Hopefully Wynonna would have better luck than Waverly did.

Climbing into her Jeep, Waverly slammed the door and savored the quiet for a moment. Unfortunately, along with that peace crept in the exhaustion she’d been keeping at bay with coffee and a prayer. She took a few deep breaths and shook it out of her shoulders before turning the ignition and cruising over to the alley behind Shorty’s.

Waverly idled there and lolled her head against the head rest for a minute before pulling out her phone. Her thumbs tapped out a quick message.

[Waverly says: “Found Willa drinking at Bobo’s. Waiting on Wynonna to pick her up now”]

Closing her eyes, Waverly rested her forehead against the cool steering wheel and let the heat warm her toes. A text message chime brought her head back up.

[Nicole says: “That should surprise me but it doesn’t”]

Waverly snickered and gave an assenting nod to herself.

[Waverly says: “That’s fair”]

[Waverly says: “Remember the days when we could go 5 mins without drama?”]

[Nicole says: “No drama? In what Purgatory do you live in? Mine is chock full of drama :P”]

[Waverly says: “Lol true enough”]

[Waverly says: “I miss you. Having a good day?”]

[Nicole says: “Miss you too. And it’s been good. Pretty quiet”]

[Waverly says: “How’s my little foot warmer?”]

A long pause. This time, a SnapChat pinged back with a picture of Calamity Jane curled up on Waverly’s blanket draped over the couch. The text caption read “I can’t tell if she misses you or just really likes your blanket.”

[Waverly says: “Aww!! Obvs she misses ME”]

[Nicole says: “Lol totes obvs”]

The sound of glass shattering roused Waverly from her blissful few minutes talking to Nicole.

_Oh God… Wynonna._

_Or Willa._

Leaving her Jeep idling with steam clouding around the tailpipe, Waverly threw open the car door and headed in through the side entrance. She was just in time to see a Revenant screaming in agony as he was dragged down to hell in flames.

_Yes!_

_…No! Wait! Bad! That’s bad!_

Waverly glanced over and it was Willa staring down the end of Peacemaker in her hand. Not Wynonna.

_Oh God. It is true. She’s the real Earp Heir._

The bar was descending into chaos (though because of the gunshot or the Revenant-sent-back-to-hell, it was hard to tell which). Stools were kicked away as bikers backed off, some with glowing red eyes. Waverly shouted at her sister and waved them over to the back entrance. **“Wynonna!!”**

Wynonna gave a nod before she started arguing with Willa. Waverly didn’t stay to watch, she just ran at full speed back to her Jeep and maneuvered it as close to that door as possible. Her heart was pounding in fear, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

_Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—What if something happened? What if a Revenant comes out that door? What if **Bobo** comes out that door? What if Wynonna got hurt? Or Willa? Or a regular person? What if they lose Peacemaker in the confusion? What if—_

The side door flew open to reveal: Wynonna! With Willa right behind her!

_Oh thank God._

Waverly waved them into her car, keeping her eyes peeled in case any Revenants followed.

“That was amazing!” Willa exclaimed breathlessly as she crawled into the backseat.

Jumping into the passenger seat, Wynonna shouted in agreement before shooting Waverly an uncertain look. “…Dolls is gonna kill us!”

 _Oh balls_.

* * *

The drive back was awkward. Waverly was quietly miserable the entire time, her eyes on the road. Wynonna and Willa were only talking to each other, gushing over what a rush that fight was. Wynonna was also listing off some of the Revenants she’d killed since returning to Purgatory.

It was just—Waverly didn’t know what to say. She felt like she should apologize to Willa, but just not **why**. Plus, it seemed like she would ruin the banter Willa and Wynonna were sharing—like it would bring down the moment or something.

 _Ugh_.

What Waverly **really** wanted to do was have a damn second to herself to call Nicole. She found herself needing to hear a friendly voice.

Finally arriving back at the Homestead, Waverly saw Dolls’ black SUV parked in the long driveway. Oddly, she was relieved by the thought of his presence (in spite how pissed he’d probably be about shooting Revenants in broad daylight at Shorty’s/Bobo’s).

_Maybe he would know what to do about Willa? Or at least yell some sense into her? Maybe?_

The stern military operative greeted them at the door, though Waverly slunk past while mumbling about putting on a kettle for tea.

Safe in the kitchen, away from everyone, Waverly allowed herself a deep breath. That was about all the time it took before the shouting started (instigated by Willa). Busying herself with dragging the metal pot from under the cabinet and filling it with tap water, Waverly could only sigh.

Willa was doing an impressive impersonation of Daddy as she admonished Dolls about the Earp Curse. How he wasn’t one of us. Dolls growled back about civilians. Waverly dug around in the pantry to look for tea while Willa and Dolls screamed about nukes and instincts.

The sound of a chair being kicked and a door slamming made Waverly flinch.

This whole day had been doing a bang-up job reproducing memories of Waverly’s childhood she’d tried **really** hard to forget. Right down to Wynonna running away from everything. Oh God, how Waverly wanted to go with Wynonna this time. But, like when they were kids, it was Willa who took command while Waverly hid away.

“I’m her sister. I got it,” Willa said as she brushed Dolls aside and headed outside. To the barn, probably. It was the only real place to go at the Homestead for privacy (hence why Waverly had claimed a Spot at the Reservoir as far from home as possible).

That constant, exhausted shiver in Waverly’s shoulders was accompanied by a hollow ache in her chest. Just an overwhelming sense of feeling out of place… that she didn’t belong here.

Grasping for her phone, Waverly craved some human contact. But Dolls was right there, damn it. Can’t she get some frickin’ peace and quiet in her own frickin’ house? She settled for yet another text.

[Waverly says: “Sooo they kind of started a bar fight”]

[Nicole says: “Are you okay??”]

[Waverly says: “Oh I’m fine, I was outside. Wy and Willa probably kicked some ass tho”]

[Nicole says: “You Earps, I swear to god ;)”]

_…Us Earps, indeed…_

_That’s **right**. I’m a frickin’ Earp and Wynonna is **my** frickin’ sister, too._

Inhaling a deep breath, Waverly squared her shoulders and pulled the whistling kettle off the stove. She strode past Dolls lurking in the living room to the front door and pulled it open.

The afternoon chill on the Homestead was biting, even with the sun so high. The surrounding snow was piled deep and in no immediate hurry to melt. Two pairs of footprints angled away from the sets around the porch and led to a large barn looming nearby.

Waverly would talk to Wynonna, too. She had been there for her sister the past few months, dealing with all the Earp Curse shit together. They would get through it. Together.

Except… not together.

Waverly had slipped into that barn to the sound of laughter. Willa and Wynonna, sharing a memory.

“We were two peas, you and I,” Willa said. “It’s always been you and I.”

_No, not " **always**." What about me?_

Wynonna's cheek twitched fondly, her eyes glassy with tears. “Yeah. I remember.”

Leaning in, Willa’s smile was warm with promise. “It can be like it always was. And different, too. In all the right ways. You’re not alone anymore.”

_“Anymore.”_

_“Anymore??”_

_Say something, Wynonna. You weren’t alone. You had me. For 15 years we’ve had each other._

_Remember?_

_Say something._

**_Say something!!_ **

But she didn’t. Wynonna just sighed and let Willa— **Willa** —hug her. Comfort her.

This time when Waverly took a deep breath, she didn’t feel better. She felt empty. Alone.

Slipping back out the barn, a cold breeze stung Waverly’s eyes (and lungs with each shallow breath). It was her turn to want to run as far away as possible. A few (dozen) drinks at Shorty’s— **Bobo’s** —sounded really good right now. Too bad **someone** had started a bar fight and killed a frickin’ Revenant in broad daylight.

It was just like being a little kid again. Willa and Wynonna together with no room for Waverly. That was always clear. She wasn’t wanted.

What if—what if they didn’t need her anymore? To help break the curse? She was **third** in line to be Heir (again). What did she have to offer?

Willa had Daddy’s training. Wynonna had been around the world and killed a bunch of Revenants already. And Waverly? They had her research. Her contribution was pinned to a board or piled into neat stacks at the BBD office. She might as well not even be there.

Waverly returned to the kitchen and made tea in bitter silence. She brought an additional cup over to Dolls, who was zoned out at the kitchen table staring at his cell phone.

“You’re quiet,” Waverly remarked, retreating to her old standby: polite small talk. A mask of a smile slipped on easily.

The Deputy Marshall actually smiled back as his fingers spun the teacup on the round table. “Yea, I’m just thinking. There’s a lot going on right now that just doesn’t add up.”

_I couldn’t agree more._

Dolls scratched at the close-cropped hair on the top of his head. “Like, if Cryderman **is** dirty: that means someone is feeding him some BBD intel.”

“Someone we know? Or someone you work for?” Waverly asked.

The significance of the conversation wasn’t lost on her: if he suspected her, he wouldn’t be telling her. That meant Dolls **trusted** Waverly.

_At least—at least **someone** does._

“I don’t know. Black Badge isn’t just a—a job for me,” Dolls admitted with a sheepish grin.

A bitter sigh of a laugh caught in Waverly’s throat. “Yea, no kidding.” She smiled at Dolls what she hoped was encouragement. “I get it. Feeling like you’re about to lose something…”

_…Or everything…_

The man adjusted in his chair and leaned forward, elbows on the table. His voice softened to an almost-whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t like her, you know.”

That struck a defensive chord. But this time, Waverly could actually try to explain to someone else who might listen. “I’m **happy** she’s back. I really am. It’s just—I never really knew her, y’know? …still don’t.”

Dolls peered at her with intensity. He promised, “We’ll get to the bottom of it, alright?”

_“We.”_

**_Right._**

_What “we?” Two Earp Heirs, a Deputy Marshall, and the little sister no one remembers exists?_

_Right._

Deflecting, Waverly smiled politely and took a sip of her tea. “Yea, I’m sure you will.”

“ **All** of us,” Dolls corrected, his dark eyes holding hers significantly. He nodded his head slowly. “You’re **good** at what you do.” Smiling, he then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how many Willas come back. Doesn’t.” His hand slapped the table as Dolls leaned back in his chair. “We’re still gonna need **you** , Earp.”

_…Earp…_

“You called me Earp,” Waverly echoed, her cheeks suddenly hurting from a pleased smile.

The sullen man brushed it off with a grin. “Yea, I did. Don’t let it go to your head.” But there was a twinkle in Dolls’ eye. He sobered before asking, “…There’s only three of you, right?”

Waverly laughed for real this time. The first time all day.

And then everything went batshit **insane**. The next few minutes were a total blur of noise, acrid smoke, and pumping adrenaline.

Broken windows, smoke bombs(!), popping gunfire, Dolls shouting orders, and then just crawling. Waverly squealed out blasphemies and curses as she crawled through the Homestead, lamps shattering and wood splintering all around and above her.

She remembered grabbing her shotgun from the kitchen table, the popping still echoing around her. There was a feeling of resentment at Dolls wanting her to hide in the basement while she clutched her shotgun. Bowls, apples, the teacups, **everything** was just exploding into bits around her as she hid behind the kitchen cabinets and waited for an opening.

That resentment boiled over into white-hot rage. This whole day— _week_ — _month_ —had just been too God Damn much and Waverly was God Damn sick and tired of it. If it wasn’t Revenants, it was witches or zombies or a long-lost sister and **now** assholes with guns and— ** _you know what?!_**

“Eat shit, shit-eaters!” Waverly shouted as she unloaded her Winchester into the nearest Asshole in snow camo wielding an assault rifle. But the man, hunkered behind a woodpile, recovered and aimed back at her.

Waverly’s rage was immediately replaced by agony as she landed hard on her knees. Her whole right side radiated with a sharp pain that made it hard to breathe. Clutching her side, Waverly’s fingertips came back crimson with blood. She managed to stand and tried to walk over to the dining room as she heard her sisters’ voices at the front door, alive and angry.

Nope. Nope. She couldn’t do it. Waverly took a few steps forward, trying to hold the pain in. But it was too much. “Uh, guys? I think I got a little bit shot.” And with that, Waverly collapsed to the floor.

Willa’s angry shouting was hard to make out in the background. But Wynonna’s worried face swam in Waverly’s vision, calling her name and telling her it was going to be okay.

_Oh God oh God oh God it hurts it hurts it hurts_

“It’s just a graze,” Dolls informed her as he pulled back part of her sweater caked in blood. His probing fingertips made her hiss in pain.

“’Just??’” Waverly quipped back, her breathing getting shallow as she struggled not to hyperventilate.

Wynonna’s head snapped up at the front door slamming. “Shit! Willa!” The panic in Wynonna’s face made Waverly grip her sister’s wrist.

_God damn it._

“Go,” Waverly said with a shaky nod. “We can’t lose her again.” She shouted “Go!” again and pushed Wynonna away.

A pattering of gunfire sprang Wynonna into action. She slapped Dolls on the shoulder and said softly, “Take care of her.”

Then everything swam for a bit.

Oh God, how it **hurt**.

Dolls was there, whispering reassurances. There was a hard pressure against her ribs that just pushed all the pain inward. She remembered muttering “Oh God” a lot and whimpering. All Waverly could do was whimper. There was so much blood and her head hurt along with her side. It was just dizzy, aching misery that seemed to last forever.

Waverly was just so **so** tired. She probably would have passed out already if the pain hadn’t been so sharp and reverberated all the way into her teeth.

She remembered asking Dolls if she should go to the hospital. “For stitches? Or something?”

“Hospitals are gonna ask a lot of questions,” Dolls reminded her as he helped her into a chair at their now-splintered kitchen table. Pock marks of bullet holes covered the wooden surface. Packing the wound with gauze and taping over it, Dolls said, “You’re gonna be okay. Keep pressure on it and the wrap clean and it’ll be okay.”

A second later, his phone rang. Wynonna. Both sisters were safe and so was the Homestead.

Crouching on the floor next to Waverly, Dolls examined the wound before nodding, satisfied with his triage. He then slung an arm under her shoulders to get her to a comfortable position on the couch. “Get some rest, then I’ll go check the perimeter.”

His hand covering her wrist, Dolls smiled. “You did good, **Earp**.”

After the door slammed shut behind him, Waverly was struck with how oddly quiet the Homestead was. For the first time since early this morning (minus her screaming “Willa!!” every 10 seconds or so), the Homestead was still.

Waverly didn’t want to be alone **or** “get some rest.” She felt around in her pockets, a section of her pants already stiff from dried blood. But she found her cell phone, undamaged from the attack.

An unread text from Nicole sat on the screen.

[Nicole says: “Hope you and your sisters are getting along okay”]

_Oh God. Nicole._

Waverly glanced down her herself, her white sweater tattered and spackled with blood. Even worse was the rest of the living room. Windows shattered, bullet holes riddled in every surface, tufts of fluff wafted in the air from the couch and chairs. The living room and kitchen were both a literal wreck.

_I can’t hide this from her._

_But how do I **explain** this? _

_I’m just so tired. Tired of keeping everything in. I just… need to talk to someone._

Waverly’s finger found Nicole’s number before she could even stop herself. She winced as she switched hands to hold the phone to her left ear. Elbow akimbo and sticking off the sofa, Waverly’s right hand pressed as best it could against the bullet wound to keep the pressure on.

_Bullet wound. I was shot. Oh God I got shot._

On the third ring, a warm voice answered.

[“Hey you!”]

Sighing with relief, Waverly struggled to find words. “Hey, I—I just—I was just—“

_Keep it together, Earp._

The warmth chilled to worry. [“Waverly. What’s wrong?”]

There was a fluttering panic in Waverly’s throat at how terrible an idea this was and how close she was to just bursting into tears. But she was just so tired. Tired of holding everything in.

“So, I—I need to tell you something, Nicole. You have to—have to **promise** not to freak out…”

_Oh good one. Now she probably thinks I’m breaking up with her._

[“Okayyyyy…”] Nicole sounded skeptical but played along.

“So there was—there was kind of a thing… at the Homestead…”

[“What kind of thing? A party? …A house party with psychos? You promised I was invited to the next one!”] Nicole started off serious but devolved into teasing. There was still a strain in her voice, though.

Waverly stared up at the ceiling and tried to gather her thoughts. “Um… sort of? No, that’s not it. Look, so I’m okay and Wynonna is okay and Willa is back—she’s okay, too—and Dolls is okay. We just—there were people… and they, uh… So Dolls and Wynonna and Willa took care of it and everything is okay but—“

[“Waverly.”] Nicole interrupted. [“You’ve said ‘okay’ like five times. Something **that** ‘okay’ usually means it isn’t. Please. What’s going on?”]

Sighing, Waverly muttered into her phone. “The Homestead was attacked.”

[“ **What???** What do you mean **attacked?!** ”]

“We’re okay! Some sort of—I don’t know… government turf war? I don’t know. But Dolls and Wynonna took care of them—it.”

[“Did you call the police??”]

“No! No… we can’t, Nicole. There could be something— **someone** —dirty. We don’t know who. We gotta take care of it ourselves.” Waverly chewed her cheek and tried to suppress a groan. She had shifted her torso slightly and was rewarded with another sharp pain.

_Oh God, what if it could be Nicole?_

_…really??_

There was a long pause at the other end before Nicole sighed. [“…okay. I mean, I don’t **like** it, but I get it. As long as you’re safe…”]

Adjusting her right hand, Waverly noticed her fingers were starting to feel damp. She raised her hand above her eyes and took note of the smear of red across them before tucking the hand back at her side. This time, she did groan. “Uh… **well** …”

[“Waverly?”]

“...Don’t freak out, okay?”

[“Waverly!”] Nicole’s voice was a worried warning.

“Okay!” Waverly scowled. She took a deep breath. “I—I got hit.”

[“What do you mean you ‘got hit?’”]

Cringing, Waverly said through her teeth, “Shot. I was… shot.”

[“Oh my God! **Waverly!** ”]

“Shit! I meant—it—it was just a graze!”

[“ **Are you okay?** ”] An increase in volume along with stress.

_Someone actually **asked**._

It was all Waverly could do not to just open the floodgates and dissolve into a puddle of exhausted tears. “No… no I’m **not** , Nicole. But—It just—Everything hurts and today sucks balls and I’m just—I’m about to… I don’t know…”

[“Are you going to the hospital? Because I will **meet you there** and—“]

“Nicole…”

[“—and I think there’s a specialist—I can’t remember her name but I will call them and make sure she’s—because you’re—“]

“Nicole!”

The rambling stopped immediately.

“Nicole… we can’t go to the hospital. Whoever did this might be looking for us there and—and we’re safer at the Homestead, okay? Just trust me, please? Dolls is taking care of me.” Waverly actually felt a warm sense of reassurance. For once, Dolls had been completely on Waverly’s side. And come through for her when she needed him.

[“I’m coming over.”]

_Yes!_

_No! Wait! Oh God there are probably bodies everywhere and the house is a wreck and **I’m** a wreck and it might not be safe and—and—_

“No, wait!” Waverly started to roll off the sofa but a sting made air hiss through her teeth. Her head was starting to throb again, along with her entire right side starting at her ribs.

Nicole pleaded. [“Waverly. Please let me see you. I’m your—I—I care about you and I need to know you’re all right. **Please**.”]

“I want to see you, too! But I don’t know if it’s safe and everything—every **one** —is a mess and high strung and—please. Just… just wait.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone.

[“Can I—can you at least send me a picture? Because I am freaking out a little and I’d feel better just knowing that you’re—you’re—“]

“Okay,” Waverly interrupted. “Promise. Right now. **And** I’ll talk to you later when everything’s calmed down a little. Because I do want— **need** —to see you. Okay, Nicole?”

There was a long, jittery exhale on the other end. [“Okay, Waves.”]

“Miss you.”

[“I miss you too.”] Nicole’s tone was soft and there was a hint of shaky breathlessness that made Waverly feel fluttery (and finally in a good way).

With an exchange of goodbyes, they hung up. Waverly sighed and tapped over to SnapChat and opened the selfie camera. Other than deep circles under her eyes and her long hair fanned out in tangles on the pillow, Waverly didn’t look **terrible** (all things considered). She gave a weak smile and snapped a picture.

She then tried to hold the phone as far back at arm’s length as she could manage (a much harder feat). The surrounding chaos of the living room made it look like the war zone Waverly was trying to avoid. Snapping a photo of her wound, Waverly angled away to crop out the bled-through bandage. It just looked like a small scratch on her side.

[Waverly says: “See? I only look a little like shit”]

[Nicole says: “Liar. You are still beautiful <3”]

[Nicole says: “Thank you, Waves. I feel better. Take care of yourself”]

* * *

The Earp sisters eventually made it back to the Homestead just as the sun was setting. Willa busied herself with cleaning up. There was still something about her demeanor that made Waverly want to apologize or help or do something to make her happy. Possibly the odd, furtive glances Willa kept shooting her.

The side glances intensified when Wynonna sat down with Waverly at the kitchen table. They were joined by Dolls. Waverly had managed a shower and a change of clothes, though the wound at her side was already starting to seep blood down her side.

She felt awkward sitting at the table with her shirt hiked up almost above her sports bra with Dolls’ hot breath on her ribs. He explained to Wynonna how to wrap the injury and then mumbled about how he was going to do a final sweep of the perimeter and come back.

A little trial and error, but Wynonna figured it out pretty quickly. Dabbing at a fresh gauze pad with antiseptic, she gave Waverly an encouraging smile. “Dolls said you kicked some ass with your shotgun.”

Squinting skeptically, Waverly tilted her head. “When? Before or after I got shot?” She mumbled, “I wish everyone would stop telling me to **hide** when shit hits the fan. This is my home, too.”

“We just want you safe, babygirl,” Wynonna replied. She reached over to apply the pad. “Put pressure here.”

Waverly hissed at the pain. It was hard to see over her hands/breast in the way. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

The older Earp winked and gave a slanted smile. “Dudes dig scars.”

_Hmmmm…_

Before she could stop herself, Waverly found herself asking: “Do chicks?”

For a moment, there was confusion in Wynonna’s eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the door slammed. Dolls had returned.

It was worse than they thought. These human mercenaries had top-shelf gear and were ex-military. And their target was Deputy Marshal Xavier Dolls.

There was definitely a traitor in their midst. Someone who had infiltrated Black Badge or Judge Cryderman’s office or both. And there was no way of knowing how far to the top the conspiracy went.

Willa returned and interrupted the BBD crew’s worried theorizing with a doozy of a request: “I need you to tell me everything you know about Bobo Del Rey.”

“Do you remember something?” Wynonna asked, eyes crinkling with concern.

“I don’t know. But I want to,” Willa replied. She chewed her cheek, her blue eyes distant.

Dolls raised a hand, his jacket whispering with the movement. “I can help with that. We can try a few techniques.” He started counting off his fingers. “There’s guided imagery, hypnosis, even some drug-induced—“

Willa interrupted him. “I’ll do it.” She shot Wynonna a significant glance, her mouth a hard line. “Whatever it takes.”

“Okay,” Dolls said, head bobbing forward in agreement. “We’ll start in the morning.” When Wynonna started to balk, he gave her a shrug. “It’s important, right? And you’ll be with her every step of the way.”

The former Heir gave a begrudging nod. Smiling, Wynonna patted at Waverly’s injured side and ran a finger through her sister’s hair. That motherly glint had finally come back. “You. Get some rest, yea? I’ll be up in a minute with a bottle of the good stuff.”

Exhaling in a laugh, Waverly narrowed her eyes in disapproval. “Wynonna…”

“Fine, the bottle’s for me. Just a shot for you, then. And a couple painkillers.” Brunette locks tossed as Wynonna gestured at the stairs with her head. “Bed. Now.”

Waverly nodded and accepted the dismissal, though that fluttering resentment returned when Willa took her chair at the table. The two older sisters clustered together carefully as Wynonna started from the beginning.

With a sigh, Waverly crawled into her bed properly for the first time in a few days. The exhaustion from the day gave way to a deep yawn. She felt it all the way down her shoulders until it met the throbbing ache at her side.

Before falling asleep, Waverly pulled out her cell phone.

[Waverly says: “Dolls cleared the Homestead though he wants us to stick close tonight”]

Thankfully, Nicole answered immediately. She’d been so quick to respond all day. So sweet and attentive.

[Nicole says: “Tell me you’re okay again”]

Waverly smile was a slanted, crinkled thing.

[Waverly says: “I’m fine, I swear”]

[Nicole says: “Okay. What about now”]

[Waverly says: “Still fine”]

[Nicole says: “Are you sure?”]

[Waverly says: “YES OMG”]

[Nicole says: “You were SHOT”]

[Waverly says: “I was GRAZED”]

There was a pause. A series of “…” appeared and reappeared for close to 30 seconds.

[Nicole says: “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you”]

[Waverly says: “Me either”]

[Waverly says: “I’m okay. Honestly <3”]

[Nicole says: “<3”]

[Waverly says: “I’m gonna go to sleep. About to pass out. Come by tomorrow? Everyone should be off to BBD pretty early”]

[Nicole says: “First thing. Should I bring breakfast?”]

[Waverly says: “Please”]

[Nicole says: “Any requests?”]

[Waverly says: “I’d kill for a breakfast taco”]

[Nicole says: “You got it, baby”]

[Waverly says: “Thanks, baby”]

[Nicole says: “Sweet dreams <3”]

[Waverly says: “Definitely”]

She fell asleep with her phone on her chest. Waverly was dimly aware of Wynonna coming in to drop off a glass of water. She felt a kiss to her forehead and a pat to her shoulder, but it could have been her imagination.

The next sound Waverly heard was the doorbell.

Nicole was here.


End file.
